


You're Hired!

by elk_cloner



Category: 12 Oz Mouse (Cartoon)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Humiliation, M/M, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, Second-Hand Embarrassment, first-hand embarrassment, reader is transmasc and has no standards, very brief mention of impregnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elk_cloner/pseuds/elk_cloner
Summary: You just wanted some crudely-drawn lunch. Instead you get some crudely-drawn dick.
Relationships: Industry Man/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	You're Hired!

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoy this terrible work that has henceforth been unleashed unto mankind  
> this was half-gift half-art trade from my partner and he made it as awful as i hoped it would be <3
> 
> BONUS MUSICAL SCORE: https://youtu.be/1khHJ0oRgco

You were hungry. That meant you needed to find somewhere in Cardboard City that sold items other than guns or alcohol. That was a tall order, and it meant there was only one destination- Liquor's. Guns and booze, sure- he sold those too, but also other things, which was a nice change of pace. Oh, no strippers or movies, either. Those were the other known services in town. Indeed- Cardboard City either had no tourism industry, or an incredible tourism industry.

The shelves of the store were as they always were. Scribbled rows of booze, hooch, spirits, and other synonyms for alcoholic beverages. There was some food, though- a head of lettuce, and what looked like a single, uncovered hamburger, just sitting there on the shelf. Did someone put it there by accident? No, there was a price tag hanging off of the bun, somehow. There were a couple guns, too. Maybe some cereal, though- it was hard to tell, because it was just a box without text on it. It could just have easily have been tampons or rat poison. Maybe tampons filled with rat poison. Though why Liquor would stock such a thing was uncertain, he didn't seem like the kind of guy to sell rat poison tampons... A whole shelf full of just bare, still-warm fried turkey legs, though? That's definitely something he was selling. Bingo. Dinner time for baby.

The bent-over-matchstick-shaped proprietor of the establishment that bore his name waddled over on his bafflingly stubby little legs. He didn't say much, just keeping an eye out, his pupils trailing your hands as you put turkey leg after turkey leg into your shopping basket.

Suddenly, a booming voice comes over what sounds like an invisible loudspeaker, accompanied by a few pieces of falling confetti, and old, 50's sounding commercial jingle music.

“ _Congra~atulations,”_ announced an overly-enthusiastic voice. _“You are the ∀ nth person to buy a big bushel of turkey legs in the world! Which means you may not be unqualified for not getting anti-fired from a theoretically-paid position at_ **_SHYD INDUSTRIES!_ ** _”_

_“What?”_

_“Ohoh! Inquisitive! We don't dis-un-like go-getters at_ **_SHYD INDUSTRIES!_ ** _”_

_“What?! What are you talking about? Where are you? What is Shyd?”_

_“Hey hey! Watch your mouth, pal! We're live!”_

_“Who ar-”_

Before you could finish your sentence, though, you're surrounded by a flash of light, and what sounds like a clock ticking frantically before getting struck by lightning... And then you're gone from Liquor's.

Liquor waddled by to where you had been.

_“Wow. Yeah.”_

Liquor looked around, his little pupils now darting from side to side, looking up at the ceiling, before he shrugged, and went to pick up all the turkey legs that had fallen on the floor.

“ _Hate that guy.”_

* * *

Bam.

Everything, suddenly, was chrome and futuristic, and defined- a far-cry from the incoherent, scribbly mess of Cardboard City, for better or worse. Presumably worse, given that you'd been abducted here for what was, apparently, a job interview by some mysterious asshole voice that didn't want you to swear by saying the name of the company aloud, despite him doing the exact same thing.

“ _Welcome to Shyd Industries! We've been keeping tabs on you for your remarkable turkey leg purchasing abilities- a talent that our analytics team assures us is positively correlated with box-location skills- and we're interested in giving you a free job interview!”_

“ _What? Also, aren't all job interviews free?”_

“ _No! Not anymore! All thanks to Shyd Industries.”_

“ _Isn't that-”_

“ _But enough about that! What credentials, do you think, you would be bringing on board to Shyd Industries?”_

“ _I don't know, and I don't know what you do, so-”_

“ _Open ended answer- flexible! I like flexible!”_

You couldn't tell if that comment was sexual or not.

“ _What do you mean- I'm sorry, what? No seriously, I don't know why you've brought me here- what job? Who are you?”_

“ _I'm_ **_INDUSTRY MAN_ ** _,”_ he announced, his voice going into a booming echo when he said his own name, accompanied by a spotlight and what sounded like enthusiastic applause from a live studio audience, a sound that seemed to pour out from nowhere in particular- especially jarring given that you couldn't see any audience.

_“Oh, uh, okay. What exactly do you... What do you want?”_

_“What do you do?”_ He sounded so goddamn excited. Smug, but excited. Like he knew, but wanted to know that you knew.

_“I... I draw? I eat turkey legs?”_

“ _WOW! That's GREAT,”_ he exclaimed, punching sideways into the air in a Leave It To Beaver old-timey “gee shucks” gesture.

“ _It is?”_

“ _That means you're qualified to kill a man! Haha! Or be my boyfriend! Haha!”_

You really didn't know how to respond. Even by the standards that you'd grown semi-accustomed to in Q109, this guy was something else. For one thing, he actually sort of looked like a coherently-drawn human being- or, at least, he looked like he was drawn in vector art instead of digitized napkin drawings. He was, as much as you hated to admit it, though, rather handsome, which meant his bizarre boyfriend comment made you blush a little bit.

“ _W-what?!”_

“ _Oho, yes! Shyd Industries supports workplace romance! It doesn't, but it will! If you are my boyfriend.”_

You really, really didn't know how to respond to this.

“ _Why, uh... Why would I want to be your boyfriend, then? What benefits does that net me? Because I'm assuming that like, being around you is generally considered a net-negative for those associated?”_

You couldn't believe you were even still talking to this man instead of trying to find a way to leave.

“ _Well, because...”_

A little plume of pyrotechnics-work fire spurted up beside his desk, startling you.

_“...We can have sex!”_

_“I... Oh my god.”_

_“He's not here, baby!”_

_“Well... Why, exactly, would I want to have sex with you?”_

_“Because sex is great, and it feels good to have a sexual_ **_(BEEP)_ ** **_!_ ** _”_

He paused. _“Woops. Can't say that word, haha!”_

_He cleared his throat. “Well, it's because sex, is, well...”_

The room goes dark, and a gleaming spotlight shines down upon him as he speaks up.

“ _Because it's about that connection- that human... Experience! But with me, it's more than an experience...”_

He turned around, no longer looking at you, instead seeming to stare at some imaginary camera, complete with a mild cheer from the invisible audience.

“ _That's right, folks- you see, here at Shyd Industries, we believe that human experience is secondary only to in-human pro-sperience! That's right- why settle for an ex-perience, when you can have a pro-sperience? Or, for that matter, why not a pre-sperience, a de-sperience, or even an un-sperience?!”_

“ _What?”_

“ _Let me explain-”_

In response, instead of actually answering, he seemed to rapidly flicker in and out of reality, shifting between his snide, suit-clad human shape and that of what could only be described as a crappy pencil doodle of a clock.

He was a clock. A clock man? Just a man? It was unclear, to say the least, especially given that he didn't seem particularly set on any given form. It was just as likely that his true shape was the clock, and not the other way around, or perhaps some even stranger form, as he didn't seem particularly constrained by the laws of time and space, either, for that matter. Like some sort of abhorrent, shape-shifting informercial Doctor Who reject. And yet, here he was, yammering on and on about some sort of ad-exec-sounding nonsense, and charming the pants off of you. Your taste in men was, seemingly, far, far from impeccable.

 _“...Alright. Alright, sure, why not. This is probably some sort of wet nightmare, so why not. Yes. I'll be your boyfriend.”_ Why would you say that. Fuck. _Fuck._

_“GREAT! Take your shirt off!”_

He certainly wasn't wasting any time.

_“I... Wow, okay, blunt, much?”_

_“No thanks, I don't smoke the funny-feel cigarettes, little buddy!”_

_“No, not that kind of b-... I meant you were being very, uh, overt with your request, Mr. Industry Man, Sir.”_

_“Yes!”_

Well... You'd already come this far. You'd agreed to be this fucking freak's boyfriend, for some reason. Why were you doing this. You nodded, sighed, and lifted up your shirt, letting your moobs flop out.

He frantically waggled his eyebrows up and down with all two frames of animation available to them, awkwardly shimmying in place as he blatantly ogled your chest. He spoke up, his tone almost sing-song.

_“Wohohoho! Heyoo! Look at that! Haha, looks like we've got a pair of masculine bazoons in the house! Wow!”_

Ugh. He was so excited, his face looked like it was going to pop off of his... Face.

_“Do you have rear masculine bazoons also?”_

_“I don't-... What?”_

_“Some people call them 'an butt' or 'booty!'”_

It was impossible to tell if he was doing a bit, if he was some sort of alien impersonating a person, or if he was really just that full-on imbecile. Regardless, much to your chagrin, it was turning you on, for reasons that you couldn't explain, in the same way you couldn't really explain string theory- like, you sort of got it, but god knows you can't explain it to someone else. At least for that, however, there was probably some old NOVA episode you could show them. There was no science to help you here, though. Just you. You and your stupid, stupid pussy.

_“I have an ass, if that's what you're asking, yes.”_

_“Wow! Ass is another word for it, that's correct!”_

_“Do you want to see my ass? Is that what you're implying?”_

_“Yes! As a matter of fact, I would, haha!”_

You turned around. Oh, man, you were going to show him your ass. You were going to, of your own free will, and with complete consent, show this absolutely abhorrent cocksuck fuckup your own personal tuchus. Your juicy rump roast. He was gonna see it all. Baby Jesus avert your eyes. You pulled down your pants.

“ _Well, I'll be! That certainly is an ass for the ages! Kaching! Put that one in the Christmas card, folks- or don't, because it's a naked ass, and you shouldn't show it to your family! Under any circumstances!”_

“ _Shut UP,”_ you groaned at him, face going flush even as you complied, now pretty much totally nude before him.

“ _I won't!”_

He definitely wasn't going to shut up. That much was absolutely certain, likely even while sexual intercourse inevitably took place. If anything, that might even exacerbate the problem/benefit of him never shutting the fuck up.

“ _Are you ready for this?”_

You exhaled deeply, looking at his smug, smug, stupid face.

“ _...Yeah, guess so. Fuck it.”_

“ _Alrighty! Hop up!”_

He held out his hands, gesturing for you to clamber up into them like a cat or something. You were small enough that that was a viable option. Ffffuuuuuck. You embraced him, feeling him turning you around so your back was to him, letting him lift you up by your hips with one hand, his other on your chest, holding you tightly before starting to stand back up to his full height.

“ _Ohhh boy.”_

He lifted you up with surprising ease given his somewhat lanky frame, his firm chest pressed against your back as he began to lower you onto the black bar which, presumably, was his twitching erection.

“ _You ready, pal?”_

“ _...Yes.”_

And with that, he started to practically slither his prick into you, the censor bar, to any who would've been seeing you guys fucking, seeming to just get shorter and shorter the further down you went, taking his semi-impressive length into your small, silly body.

“ _MhWaahghN,”_ you groaned.

“ _Pleasure noises? Sounds like another win for Shyd Industries! Haha! My penis is great!”_

He felt so good. He was much, much better at holding you tight and lifting you up and down on that throbbing prick of his than he had any right to be. A man that looked, talked, acted, and was him should not have been anywhere near as good fucking as he was. He shouldn't have been fucking at all. And yet, here he was.

Fucking.

Fucking you, specifically.

Every breath you took was full of him. He smelled like a furniture store. New car smell, industrial lumber and faux leather. You half expected him to do... Something. Something other than just lifting you up and down, lightly bucking his hips- as it stood, though, the way he was using you, just fucking standing there, rapidly shuffling his arms up and down, essentially tweening you on his dick was driving you wild. His cock was driving you wild- or, at least, you assumed it was. You couldn't see what he was actually putting in you. It could've been the hand of a giant clock, for all you knew. Hell, it probably was, at this point, why not? You let out soft, quivering moans.

_“You seem to be enjoying this an awful lot!”_

_“YeehHheesssS!...”_

_“Good! That's good to know!”_

He shuffled his feet back and forth, walking backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards, power-moon-walking in place while. Was that a sign that he was enjoying it? He was, at times, making little grunts and Duffman-sounding “Ooh!”s of pleasure, so you assumed it was.

Suddenly, even as he was grunting and grinding up into your wet cunt, his eyes bugged out, and he suddenly began yelling, startling you.

**_“IT'S TIME TO MULTITASK!”_ **

He shuffled back over to his desk, still humping you, and pressed a little button, sounding a buzzer... Then he went right back to fuck-shuffling around like a total dildo, still bringing you to the brink of orgasm in the process... Just as the intended recipient of the message enters, slowly sliding on his rough, fishy belly into the office. A shark. It was a fucking shark. And he didn't look pleased. At least he wasn't particularly startled by seeing you getting fucked.

“ _Why did you call me in here.”_

“ _I'm your boss!”_

“ _I know. I know you're my boss. Why did you want me to come and talk to you?”_

“ _Because I'm -UNF- having sex!”_

“ _Yeah.”_

“ _Yes!”_

“ _Okay. That's really, really good for you. So, go and keep uh, keep having sex, okay?”_

“ _I will!”_

Industry Man and the apparently air-breathing shark stared at each other. Well, the shark just seemed to be staring off at something else, really. He didn't seem particularly capable of moving his eyes.

“ _Can I go?”_

“ _Not yet!”_

Another long pause in the conversation.

“ _When can I go?”_

“ _Now you can go!”_

And with a loud ticking noise and a flash of light, the shark was gone.

“ _Alrighty! Back to having awesome sex!”_

And he did, slamming into you with renewed vigor after that exceedingly important conversation. The perky executive, in mid thrust, seemed to remember something else, snapping his fingers- somehow- while still holding onto you like an oversized pocket pussy. Another interruption? Well, a tonal interruption, at least- he was still fucking you.

_“Oh, that's right! Haha, there's a pair of dangerous, escaped prisoners running through this office! Look, there they are!”_

_“WHHhHAHAHAT,”_ you howled out, voice quavering and borderline gibberish from the fucking-induced goofiness you were experiencing. Sure enough, though, adjusting your gaze over to the doorway revealed a pair of strangers- a short, squat, large-eared green thing with a golden tooth and a massive mouth, and a blue, peanut-shaped man who reeked of weed smoke. The green one stared in, mouth agape, before looking angry and disgusted at the spectacle of witnessing Industry Man making sweet sweet love to your foolish body.

**_“MAN WHY DO WE ALWAYS GOTTA BE RUNNING INTO PEOPLE DOING WEIRD -WOOP- UP IN HERE MAN I MEAN WE'RE JUST WALKING AROUND THIS OFFICE MINDING OUR OWN SHIZ AND THEN WE BUMP INTO THIS WACK MOTHER-WOOP- GOING APE-WOOP- ON THIS DUDE'S PUSSY MAN”_ **

_“Joeeee, don't -wheeze- don't say that, man! This guy can... Uhuhhuhheh... T-This guy can start fireeesss... With his miiiiind! Like... WooooOOsh.... Ahh! Scannneerrrrss, ahhhhaheh!...”_

This was officially the worst fucking thing that had ever happened to you mid coitus. This goddamn green yelling thing and some kind of stoner peanut were now talking about some incoherent shit, just in case the semi-public exposure of you getting railed by this immensely unpleasant evil businessman wasn't already bad enough.

“ ** _SAY WHAAAAT? WHY ARE WE IN HERE THEN?! GET US OUTTA HERE MAN! YOU TRYNA GET MY ASS KILLED, BRUH?!”_ **

“ _Noo, nooooo, it's... It's jusssst down this hallway, they uh... They left their dooooor open for... Heheh... I don't know why they left their door open... Pfffhaha!...”_

Industry man moved one hand off of your titty and pointed at the two yammering assholes, but didn't bother to close the door or anything.

“ _Ohoh! Uh-oh! They're escaping! Someone should do something about that.”_

The duo continued marching down the hall, paying no mind to either of you as they went on their way. Then, just as they were out of sight, they walked by again, staring in at the two of you once more.

“ _It was... It was the other way,”_ said the peanut-man, with his typically accompaniment of wheezy laughter.

“ _Hey, there they go again! I should definitely do something about that.”_

He didn't do anything about that, instead continuing to stare off into space where the two shitheads had been, slamming his thick, throbbing clock-cock into your sopping hole, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body and making you groan. Just as you were getting close, Industry man adjusted, laying you out atop his futuristic chrome desk, letting you sprawl out as he grabbed onto your stubby little worm legs. He pulled your legs apart, then, leaving you bow-legged as he reinserted himself into you with a wet squelch, juices pushed out from your recently-plumbed pussy squirting out around the repeat intruder.

“ _Oh, fuck, fuck- don't stop, please, don't stop!”_

“ _Okay, I won't!”_

He rapidly sped up, accompanied by an old cartoon wind-up noise, his hip thrusts becoming a blur, a rush of scrambling, jerky animation as he slamfucked you on the desk, each thrust making your whole body shaking- at this speed, everything just sort of looked like sped up footage of Jello jiggling.

“ _sllloooOWDOWNSLOWDOWNSLOWDOWN”_

“ _Okay, slowing it down!”_

He ground to a near halt, still moving, but going in what seemed to be slow motion- it wasn't just him, either. Everything seemed slower. Even your voice. He had actually slowed time down, just to prove a point about how good at sex he was. What a dickhead.

“ _Nnnnoooottt thaaaaatttt slllllooooowwww!”_

“ _Oooookaaaay I'lllll bbrrrring it back to normal speed!”_

He was incredible. It was as if he didn't need to pause- he hadn't really even broken a sweat, despite ramming in and out of you with the speed and consistency of a fucking machine. Whether his lack of perspiration was due to his physical prowess or because he just couldn't sweat was a matter of some debate, to be sure, but regardless.

“ _Second verse, same as the first! But also different than the first because you're laying down now!”_

He was slamming into you with the same lack of upper body movement, but a subtle twitch of his normally either completely open or half-lidded eyes betrayed that he may well have been getting close- as were you. Had you already cum? During the time-manipulation, it was hard to tell. All you knew was that you felt incredible... And just as you think you're about to have a body-rocking, incredible orgasm, he slows down, and snaps his fingers again, this dense motherfucker.

“ _Wow, that's right, I actually DO have something important I need to do! I forgot, because of how much sex I was having with you!”_

“ _You WHAAahT,”_ you groaned again, still on the brink.

“ _Oh, that's right, I... -Unf!- I have a business meeting! Watch this!”_

Great. More weirdos to stare at you getting dicked down by this Soviet anticapitalist propaganda-looking time sorcerer.

While still bucking his hips up into you, he stares intensely at a spot on the floor, his expression otherwise unchanging from his perpetually smug grin. Then, with what sounds like a Lynchian crackle of thunder and lightning, a man is suddenly manifested from seemingly out of nowhere. He was a short, blue-shirted fellow with flowing hair and long, lanky arms- one ended in a hook instead of a hand. Industry Man seemed familiar with him, and began speaking, enthusiastically as usual, while still pounding you.

“ _There you are! We need to have an important conversation about boxes, and where they can be found! It's an important conver-UNGH-sation, so rest assured, you have my -OOGH- full -AH- attention!”_

The oddly-proportioned blond haired man stared with his beady black eyes, before looking back and forth, looking more perturbed than shocked. The silence of the room was broken only by the wet sex noises and moaning. After what felt like an eternity of this awkward comedic silence, he responded, finally speaking up, talking with a Texan accent.

“ _Oh, what the... What the hell, man. Don't do that crap, c'mon now. That's nasty as hell right there, man. I'll wait outside, I guess.”_

And with that, the blond gentleman waddled outside, his feet seeming to shoot up and down into his body instead of taking normal steps- and yet, it seemed to provide ample locomotion for him to make a hasty retreat from having to watch you get fucked and conducting a meeting with Industry Man.

“ _Wait, don't -Oogh- go! There's -wet slapping- important box-related information I require from you!”_

“ _Yeah, well, I don't talk to people that are doin' it. Or you. Especially not while you're doin' it. So I'm gonna get outta here while the gettin's good. Y’all, uh... y'all have fun, though. Freaks.”_

It seemed a bit like the pot calling the kettle black for this hook-handed, lanky little country-fried goblin of a man to be calling anyone freak. Frankly, though, given your current situation, you couldn't say he was unjustified in his point of view. The squat southern gentleman waddled his way out the door, but Industry Man was too busy building his thrusting speed back up to care all that much- he could probably just yoink him back into his office again if he really needed to, after all.

He loomed over you, slamming his hands down on the desk as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, now staring down at you and smiling like a lunatic as he craned his neck up, his pupils going tiny as he began to yell.

“ _I feel a_ **_GREAT WELL OF POWER_ ** _exploding forth from within me! Orgasm power, activate!”_

And with that absolutely awful pair of sentences, Industry man began violently gyrating, making a noise like a tea kettle as he started to shoot hot, stringy ropes of jizz up into your personal business-hole. Dear god, that's what you were going to call it from now on. Your business-hole. Because this man came in you. In an impressive quantity, no less! Perhaps it was just due to you being fucking puny in comparison to the man that had nutted within you, but you felt yourself swelling slightly, your sensitive bits swelling and glorping to a fullness you had previously thought unattainable due to the sheer volume of adult gravy he was depositing. Oh, yeah, you came too, probably- but frankly, this whole experience was so dizzying and intense that it almost didn't fully register until the post-nut daze set in.

Industry Man pulled out, leaving a hot string of gooey cum trailing from the black box, which now drooped, growing limp.

“Oh! I ejaculated! Nice. Well, talk to you later!”

You panted, trying to catch your breath and assess the fact that this nutjob may well have just impregnated you, just as it sets in that he's about to send you back on your merry way for the time being.

“Wait, do you want to-”

He simply foisted off a little business card on you, and with a quick glance towards you, you suddenly found yourself hurtling back to Q109.

Naked.

Dripping cum.

On Liquor's floor while he was still picking up turkey legs.

The matchstick looked down at you.

_“Wow. That's wild.”_

* * *

Meanwhile, back in his office, Industry Man pulled his pants back up, and wiped his brow with a casual sigh.

_“Alright, let's get back to business- you're hired! I'll-... Oh, that's right, I teleported you. Later then, haha!”_


End file.
